Monkey in the Middle
by theRighteousMan
Summary: In which Avengers merchandise is getting out of hand, and most of the team is loving it. Steve just needs his art supplies, and maybe a hearty shot of sanity. Part of The Superheroes in Stark Tower series. One-shot. T for a swear word.


It all begins with the Avengers standing outside of an art store a few blocks from Stark Tower, armed not with weapons but with Tony's wallet and a long list of supplies they need to buy. It's mid-evening.

An ad catches their attention on their way in the door. Plastered across the storefront window is a brightly colored poster that catches their attention. _New promotional items in stock!_ it promises all potential shoppers. _For truly_ _ **super**_ _artists._

Underneath the words on the advertisement are a few graphics of dollar-priced Avengers notebooks and cheap Avengers pencils. The rest of the team exchanges a hesitant look with Steve, but the Captain is determined to make this trip today, and the sun is already going down. There's no time to look for another art store.

"Maybe we should go somewhere else," Tony suggests, eyebrow cocked at the ad.

Steve shakes his head stubbornly. "I'm sure it'll be fine. That's probably just for kiddie supplies."

Clint nods. "Yeah," he agrees, "What's the worst that could happen?"

.

The team steps inside the store and breaks up within a matter of minutes, each little group searching for their own assigned supply. Steve has forgotten about the ad in minutes.

.

All of a sudden, somebody laughs. It's Percy. "I think you should buy this one," he says when the laughter ceases.

Steve glances up from the pack of pens in his own hand – a generic, no-nonsense black brand with rubber finger grips and glossy gel ink – to stare at Percy's find. The teenage superhero waves around the themed plastic packaging gleefully, skipping in place in the aisle. "They're great, right? Look, they're multicolored, and each color is supposed to match the uniform!" He tosses them to the super soldier and grabs another set from the shelf.

The writing utensils come eight to a set, and the tube of each heavy-duty plastic body comes decorated as a member of the Avengers. Steve remembers the poster outside all of a sudden, but that doesn't stop his jaw from dropping in abject horror at the set of pens in his hand.

There's Tony's brilliant red and gold casing, and Bruce's, the streaks of green and purple electric-looking. The label boasts a unique selection of colors, including 'Spiderman Suit' red, 'Whirlwind's Shield' silver, 'Hulk's Skin' green, 'Iron Man Armor' gold, 'Widow's Hair' orange, 'Hawkeye's Mask' purple, 'Thor's Lightning' yellow, and 'Captain America's Cowl' blue.

He eyes the pens suspiciously, turning the package over in his hands. _As strong as your favorite superhero!_ the sticker on the wrapping promises in bold, comic-book style writing. A large graphic of the team makes for the front of the gaudy display box holding stacks of the same set of pens on the shelf. Percy is absolutely taken with them, and drops an armful into the basket.

Steve is still in awe that this Avengers promotional deal seemingly extends to professional art supplies.

"Uh, no," he tells the teenager as nicely as he can while he piles the handfuls of pens back into the decorative display box. They look nice, he supposes, but there's only so much media attention he can get out of being a superhero before the merchandise (other than the themed pens, there are throw pillows, waffle irons, ice cream flavors, even phone cases and nail stickers) gets irritating. "That's why I'm doing this, right? To take a break?"

"I thought you wanted a back-up in case you ever got kicked off the job."

"That too," Steve reassures him, putting another pack of pens back on the shelf.

'This' refers to Steve enrolling in an art class at a local university. His decision to do so was largely influenced by Tony and Natasha – they really liked pointing out that he had no non-super friends, no significant other, no hobbies other than running and beating the crap out of a punching bag at three in the morning.

Looking past that the both of them were dirty filthy hypocrites (because Steve doesn't see either of them socializing it up with anyone outside Stark Industries or SHIELD, but he digresses), Natasha does have ballet to fall back on, and Tony has a company to help run. Steve just kind of exists, stuck somewhere between the '40s and now. He makes meals for the team sometimes, goes jogging, Avenges things when the need arises. He trains Percy and Peter occasionally. He sketches every once in a while, paints even less often. But the majority of his day is consumed with mind-numbingly boring nothingness.

So he had signed up for a class. Sue him. It was either this or take a job at SHIELD.

But back to the present.

Percy snorts. "Well, since that'll never happen – the world needs you too much to let it, and even if it did, we wouldn't just let you walk off, so it looks like you're never getting a break – you need these pens."

Steve takes a minute trying to sort out Percy's scattered logic, but gives up after a long moment and shakes his head. "I'll never use them," he promises. Anything but these pens, he prays to himself, cringing as he lays his gaze on what is most likely a low-quality product wrapped in the assembly-line faces of his friends.

"Doesn't matter," Percy responds, obviously not seeing things the way that Steve does.

"They're a waste of money."

"Tony is buying – he doesn't care."

Steve rolls his eyes. "Percy. They're nice and all, but I don't need them."

"Come on, Steve! Live a little. Look, I'll only get a few packs."

The super soldier bites back a suffering sigh. They're enduring being in this hipster-ish art shop in downtown Manhattan in order to look for serious art supplies, not Avengers merchandise. "You're getting sidetracked," Steve warns him. "The colorful labels and the flattery factor, that's how they get you."

"Who are 'they' anyway, the illuminati? Besides, I don't care, these are great. Look," he drops two packages into the basket. "Only these two. It's a compromise." Percy begins to walk off and look for Peter when he stops and turns, fixing Steve with a level stare. "Don't you dare put those back, because even if you end up never using them, we know someone else will."

Percy is only seventeen, but when he wants to be terrifying, all he has to do is break out that glare. Steve sighs in defeat and trails after Percy, Avengers pens in tow.

.

The next two team members Steve stumbles upon are Bruce and Natasha, browsing through a selection of sketchbooks. The entire wall is filled with them, the shelves stretching for at least a good dozen feet. Their hands are both occupied by stacks of leather-bound pads. Looped through one of Bruce's arms is a basket stacked high with boxes of drawing pencils.

Next to him, Natasha reaches for the top shelf of the sketchpad display case. She grunts, dissatisfied, when her groping hand does not come up nearly as high as she needs it to. Her gaze is locked on the spine of a bound notebook whose cover appears to be multicolored. Steve moves to help her, easily reaching over her head and plucking the binder off the shelf. He places it into her waiting hands.

She smirks when she sees the cover art.

"You have gotta be kidding me," Steve says, dumbfounded, peering at the pad over her shoulder.

Splashed across the front cover of the pad of paper is a collage of trademark symbols for each of the Avengers.

"Oh, man! That's priceless," Peter says happily, ambling up behind the small group with a laughing smile. Percy is with him, holding several painter's palettes for Steve to choose from. He laughs as well when Natasha flashes the notebook at him.

"No," Steve protests, taking the notebook back and immediately sliding it back into the space where it was residing before he pulled it down. "It's actually appalling that they can find so many places to splash our names just to make a profit." The longer Steve spends in this store, the more worried he gets. Where will the Avengers horror end?

"Oh, Steve," Bruce says from beside Natasha. He stands on his toes and pulls the pad down again. "Publicity is just part of the gig. I hate it too, but it's not going away." He gives Natasha the notebook back, who promptly tucks it into Bruce's basket and smiles up at Steve angelically.

Bruce shrugs at younger man. "Nothing we can do now, Natasha wants it. Guess we'd better find Thor before he knocks down the paint rack." They amble off, and Percy and Peter follow along obediently. Exasperated, Steve trails behind them, glaring at the multiple Avengers peeking up at him from his own shopping basket.

.

Thor is in the very back of the store, indeed browsing a large selection of bright colored tubes of paint all lined up neatly along the wall. He holds up a color close to his face to get a good once-over before he puts it down, apparently not having found the color he was looking for yet.

"Hey, Thor," Percy greets the god. "Whatcha doin'?"

"Hello Percy, son of Jack!" Thor says in return, beaming. "I am browsing Midgard's finest selection of 'acrylic paints'. The helpful sign above has informed me of a special promotional paint series. It is a special edition," he explains, reading off the large polyester sign hanging above the display. "Hello Natasha, Bruce, Steve, and Peter as well."

"Well I'll help you look, Thor," Percy tells him, with a hunch towards what said promotional sale is. He joins Thor in front of the rack of paints, where they search high and low for the sticker that will notify them of which paint tubes are the 'promotional brand'. Natasha, Bruce, and Peter help Thor as well. Steve stands off to the side, carrying the baskets of supplies and thumbing through the contents.

Ignoring the Avengers pens and sketchbooks, Steve already has a large collection of drawing pencils, Prismacolor colored pencils, pens, and charcoal sticks, courtesy of Natasha, Bruce, Peter, and Percy. He has an empty palate for acrylic paint, and another one for watercolors. All he needs now are his paints and some paintbrushes.

Steve will be more than happy to put this store in his rear-view mirror, what with all the Avengers merchandise it carries. Speaking of which…

"Oh my gosh, I knew it!" Percy exclaims in delight. "I found the promotional paint!" Peter and Thor scrabble over themselves to look at what Percy holds in his hand.

Steve is broken from his thoughts by the uncontrollable laughter that follows this announcement. He looks over to see Bruce and Natasha snickering, Thor clutching his gut, and Peter and Percy holding on to each other's shoulders with their heads thrown back in laughter. His stomach sinks.

"What?" he asks warily. Percy tosses him a blue paint tube.

Steve almost doesn't want to look at it.

When he does, his own stern face covered by his cowl stares back up at him. Steve squeezes his eyes shut and bites back a groan.

The laughter coming from his friends renews.

Natasha and Peter make quick work of picking up several of every color involved in the promotional sale and dumping them all into the emptiest basket. Before he knows what's happening, a sea of Iron Man masks and angry Hulk faces and impassive Spider Man eyes are staring up at Steve.

"Is this the only type of paint you need, Captain?" Thor asks, looking for all the world like an excited puppy. Steve almost regrets telling Thor that he needs to buy oil and watercolor paint too.

It's just his luck that his teammates find the same promotional sale in each of those types of medium as well.

Steve almost sighs again, but wisely holds his tongue. "Let's move on."

.

They find the archer and the inventor in the paintbrush aisle, running their fingers over the bristles of the various types of brushes. Steve breathes an internal sigh of relief. There's no way this store can find a way to Avenger-fy paintbrushes, he reasons to himself.

He thinks this too soon, it would appear.

"Look!" Tony says to Clint, voice full of glee as he shoves a watercolor brush under the other man's nose. "This has you on it!"

Clint takes the paintbrush, whose shaft is painted to look like a little Hawkeye wearing a purple and black vest, and busts out laughing. Tony picks out more from the display, all Hawkeye, all different sizes. "You're getting these," he informs Steve gleefully, and tosses the entire handful into another basket.

Steve is really beginning to regret persuading everyone to visit this particular ship. He pinches the bridge of his nose and pushes down the rising urge to audibly huff in exasperation. "And why, pray tell," he asks in a carefully controlled tone of voice, "do I need Hawkeye watercolor brushes when there are perfectly good, _cheaper_ ones two feet away?"

"Money's not an issue, dear Captain. And come on Steve, show a little team pride," Tony replies at the same time that Clint demands, "Hey, what's wrong with Hawkeye?"

Steve ignores Clint. "Tony, you're the one who originally thought we should go somewhere else."

"Yeah, and then I actually saw this stuff. Priceless!" He meanders into the section of acrylic and oil brushes and stops dead at the array. A shit-eating grin grows on his face instantly. Captain America filbert brushes, Thor fan brushes, Spider Man detail brushes, and more, in every different style and Avenger, sit clustered in the very middle of the display.

Natasha and the rest of the gang choose that very moment to walk over from where they've been admiring the paintings on the wall. Clint chooses now to abandon his inspired brushes and rejoin Tony and Steve as well.

"These are amazing!" Clint says in awe, and immediately begins piling the entire collection into the basket with no regard for quantity or price. Percy and Tony help him. Bruce, Natasha, and Peter are all busy admiring the Hawkeye brush. Steve tries not to scream.

"Tony, I'm not using these," he says, trying to sound reasonable. What he really wants to say is, _"I'm not walking around in public with our faces plastered on some art supplies that probably don't even work very well."_

"Oh yes you are, buddy," Tony replies. "This is what I'm buying you. Suck it up, buttercup."

After hearing this response, Steve feels no guilt sneaking away and gathering up a sizeable collection of normal looking brushes to use instead. He slips them underneath one of the normal sketchbooks he found, and returns to watch the Avengers-merchandise-fueled chaos.

.

When the eight Avengers roll up to the cash register with five baskets packed with art supplies in tow, the cashier looks rightly concerned. Especially when eighty percent of the contents of said baskets have at least one of their many faces on them.

Steve drops his face into his hands. _He must think we're so conceited_ , he groans to himself.

The young man scans another Avengers sketchbook and glances up at the three superheroes staring back at him. He ducks his head and resumes his work.

Tony is acting like the child he is at heart, fiddling around with the counter display, otherwise known as the store's last attempt to throw useless junk at customers in hope of making a couple extra bucks. This attempt works too, as Tony spots a small rack of key chains and grabs the entire stock. He tosses them down on the counter with the rest of their purchases, but not before giving Steve the biggest shit-eating grin he's able to muster.

The cashier adds the seventeen Avengers key chains to their bags with wide eyes.

Thor chortles from behind the abashed super soldier and the smug billionaire. Steve thanks his lucky stars that Bruce, Natasha, and Clint have left to buy pretzels with Percy and Peter across the street.

It takes the cashier another five minutes to finish scanning and bagging everything. The bill comes out to over a thousand dollars. Steve's eyes bug at the price. He can almost see his parents and neighbors rolling in their graves.

"We should put some of those brushes back," he tells Tony, pleading.

Tony's smug smile towards Steve only grows when he swipes one of his many credit cards, purchasing everything and effectively putting Steve's last few shreds of hope to death.

Steve ushers them out the door with their laden bags in tow, and debates whether or not it's worth it to try and return everything tomorrow.

.

Steve never returns the supplies. Tony (and the rest of the team, for that matter) keep a close eye on him whenever he leaves the tower for any reason.

A few days later, Steve switches on a random news channel and freezes.

 _"ARE THE AVENGERS OBSESSED – WITH THEMSELVES?_ An interview with a store clerk who claims the famed team of superheroes bought out an art store's entire stock of Avengers merchandise, at five," the reporter onscreen says.

The super soldier turns the set off quickly and buries his burning face in a throw pillow.

.

Steve's first day of art school at the local university approaches quickly. When Steve packs his supplies, he makes sure to bring as only normal pieces of equipment. The Avengers supplies remain in their original shopping bags, shoved underneath his bed.

The team wishes his well when he leaves. They're in surprisingly good spirits too, all laughing at something when he walks in the door. Steve feels like he's back in primary school, bag high on his shoulders and ready for class.

Instruction goes relatively smoothly too, until the professor asks everyone to do a small work as means of introducing the rest of the class to their preferred medium and style. Steve reaches for his acrylic brushes and paint tubes.

What he pulls out are all brightly colored and sporting his teammates' faces. Maybe he should have seen this coming. Curse Natasha and Clint and their super-spy skill sets. He huffs out the sigh that he's been holding in ever since he first saw these products.

A nearby classmate looks over at Steve and the supplies scattered on his table and raises her eyebrows. "Wow," she remarks, scanning the products with big eyes. Her eyebrows are raised. "Big Avengers fan, are you?"

"Oh, uh," Steve begins, his face pink. His hands wander for something to distract him.

He picks up a little round Hulk brush to scrutinize it more closely. He flicks the bristles experimentally and is both astounded and pleasantly surprised at the smoothness of the brush and the spring of the hairs. These brushes are (surprisingly) not too bad. He'd even go so far as to say they're very good.

He uncaps a blue container of paint next. The color is rich and flows well. Another quality product. _Maybe I was wrong about the value_ , he admits to himself. He's still kind of uncomfortable seeing his face on an eighth of the products lying on his table, but he supposes he'll get over it eventually.

Thoroughly changed in his opinion, Steve looks back over at the girl, whose eyebrows are still raised questioningly at Steve's collection. He finds himself unable to muster up the same irritation he felt while buying these supplies.

"Yeah," he replies finally, picking up a Captain America brush and a tube of Iron Man paint. "Something like that."

.

 _a/n: in other words, in which Avengers merchandise is getting out of hand (much like it is here, in the real person world) and Steve is having none of it. The team thinks this is way too funny an opportunity to pass up. Hope you liked it, and for those of you following this specific universe, I finally got my ass in gear and finished this thing (which was first started over a year ago and has been sitting half-finished in a folder until three days ago, oops). Please review, favorite, and follow if you enjoyed. Your continuous feedback and support keeps me going!_


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